


His Dearest Friend

by DustySoul



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Epistolary, Father-Daughter Relationship, Letters, M/M, Other, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-06
Updated: 2015-12-06
Packaged: 2018-05-05 04:46:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5361935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DustySoul/pseuds/DustySoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hamilton allows Frances to read his correspondence to her father. In it's entirety.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Dearest Friend

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GwendolynGrace](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GwendolynGrace/gifts).



> Inspired by Reconstruction, Redaction, and Reading the Record by GwendolynGrace  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/5344241?view_full_work=true

The letter is left on his desk where before he had so neatly lain out his every recollection of and complete correspondence with his dear Laurens. It can only be from Frances, who, with the aid of recent events, has persuaded him to fill her long awaited request. It would have been easier, and far kinder, to never hear from the young woman again.

Yet she has left a letter.

 

Dear Sir,

I would have left this letter with the bundle you have so graciously allowed me to peruse, and which I have returned to their rightful spot, as you instructed. However I was concerned that such an action would result in you never having the chance to read this.

When you started to give in to my request you asked me to imagine the worst of my father, to conjure my deepest fear of what I might find in his character if I delved to deeply into the subject. I know now, of course, what you were trying to warn me of. I was not entirely honest with you, I’m sure you know. I believe I said I was worried to find he was a dishonorable man and a coward. And if that was the truth, I could live with it.

But, to tell you honestly now, as you have been so forth right with me, I have a deeper fear.

I do not suppose you have read the letters between my father and his father? I wish you never to see them. For the longest time they were all I had to know of my father, and all I had to know of the love fathers have toward their children. In their correspondence my father was, I think, the perfect, dutiful, and loving son. If only such familial affection was reciprocated. The only words of praise my grandfather ever held for his son were wrapped in manipulations and disparaging remarks.

And, I feared, that I was better off never knowing my father if he would have raised me as he had been raised. For all I have heard of my father’s most honorable character and bravery in battle I had no way to know how he treated those he cared about - or if he cared of anyone at all. In what little letters and recollections others have of him, I came to know him as a soldier, a boy, and a hero. But I've never had the chance to known him as a beloved friend or a daughter.

Until you have let me read these correspondences, that is. You have assuaged my anxieties. I now know, while he may not have been the prefect father to his young daughter, dedicated so deeply to his country, as he was, he still would have been a good one. In spite of everything he maintained a deep capacity for affection. I know, with alacrity, that the tales I have been told of my father’s character have not been exaggerated or distorted through the lens of nostalgia.

You may not believe me when I say this - but these letters and his sketchbook have confirmed him to be the man I truly hoped him to be. Not only was he dedicated to his country, not only was he honorable and brave in war, but he also cared most profoundly for those he loved. If only he had the chance to counted me among them.

Your grateful and obedient servant,

Frances Laurens.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Crit and comments welcome!  
> Say hi to me on dusty-soul.tumblr.com


End file.
